


A Wife Who Does

by marchionessofblackadder



Series: A Crown of Roses [2]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-11
Updated: 2013-12-11
Packaged: 2018-01-04 09:07:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1079145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marchionessofblackadder/pseuds/marchionessofblackadder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the midst of wedding preparation, the issue of rooms, duties, and children are discussed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Wife Who Does

**Author's Note:**

> A special thanks to Repeatinglitanies for the prompt!

Rumpelstiltskin had stayed up the entire night after Belle had asked to marry him, doing his very best to see that they could make it as legally binding as possible. She had to commend him on his energy for the matter, for the veil was dreadfully heavy and beginning to give her a headache. Laying down helped, when the yards of silk wasn’t weighing her down. Of course, Belle had at first a more practical approach and suggested they cut off the excess fabric, much to the sorcerer’s abhorrence.

“If you tamper with the object, it could become permanently latched to its host,” Rumpelstiltskin pressed, his eyes flaring at the very idea. Belle sat rooted to the spot of the couch he’d procured for her, bringing it from the library up into his tower so she could rest her weary neck from bearing the heavy weight.

“You speak of it like it’s got feelings,” Belle huffed, pushing herself up so the back of the couch supported her head.

“It’s magic,” Rumpelstiltskin said firmly, looking down at his ledger. “It most certainly does have feelings.”

After her initial shock over her own bravery wore off, Belle was content to recline in silence and think on the decision she’d made, listening to the sorcerer bustle back and forth and hither and yon as he prepared for their… binding. The prospect of marrying anyone had become a matter of terrifying thrill to her, after her separation from Gaston. Then, it was only a matter of duty, something that had always been in her future that she had thought of with no more cheer than a scheduled bath or a walk in the gardens.

It had only taken her a few hours after she’d made her deal with Rumpelstiltskin, and he’d locked her away in his dungeon, that she realized what she had given up. It had been a sacrifice, truly, for there were things in life she’d looked forward to. Travel, understanding, new experiences-a family, safety. Her sacrifice was a small price for the rescue of her people from the ogres-of course, she knew that. But it was not so easy to swallow knowing life for her people would go on and flourish and she would not be able to see the fruits of that.

It shouldn’t have mattered. But a small selfish part of Belle that was still very much a child, a maiden, let it remain so.

Then, he had told her that the price of her freedom from the veil would be marriage, and she had felt her body thrill at the first mention of it. She had not thought of the implications of marriage, especially marriage to the Dark One-she had only really felt a warm rush tingle up the small of her back and curl in her belly. It felt as if he had offered her a choice to see the world right then and there, even though he’d spat the words like snake venom he’d sucked from a wound.

Now as she lay curled on the couch and watching him scribbling a letter in concentrated haste, she tried to relay the terms in her mind. Husband. Marriage. Those things which she had been trained and prepared for her whole life were becoming a quick reality that made her throat close up. Would their relationship truly change, or would she only be his… his wife in technicality? For her safety? Would he still treat her like his maid?

Belle bit her lip. There was a part of her that didn’t know what she wanted. Fear of the unknown was always something Belle had balked at. It had stopped her from running away from home many a time before Rumpelstiltskin had knocked upon their door. She had seen the distasteful, the cruel sides of him since he’d brought her to his castle, yet…she had also seen wonders, hadn’t she? She’d seen tenderness in his eyes telling her stories by firelight, a fascinating power of concentration when he was at work, be it at magic or his wheel, and even a clever wit and dry humor that could rend her into giggles.

And what would their lives be like after the marriage?

Gulping, Belle pushed herself to sit up and said, “Rumpelstiltskin, we need to talk.”

The imp’s fountain pen stopped its hasty scratches, and he glanced up at her across the expanse of the tower. He only had a few candles in the scattering candelabras lit, so she felt half in shadow while he was exposed above the warmth of the light. She saw his throat move when he gulped, and she pulled her feet beneath her, careful not to tear the veil, and patted the space on the couch where she’d had her legs a moment before.

If Belle had been in doubt that things hadn’t changed with their deal-their second deal, she was quite sure of herself then when he set his work primly aside and pushed his stool back to stand. He’d shed his scaly mantle of dragonhide hours before and crossed the room with carefully measured steps, his boots immaculate and fitted to his leather clad legs beneath a stiff brocade waistcoat of a burnished charcoal with veins of gold and a silk shirt as blue as the ocean that rippled with his movements.

He sat beside her, perching on the edge of the cushion as if hesitant to disrupt her in the slightest, or perhaps ready to flee at the slightest provocation. His back was straight as an arrow, and Belle pursed her lips to hide her smile, lest he think she was teasing him.

“We need to discuss the details of our new… arrangement,” Belle said, proud of how steady her voice was. She laced her hands together in her lap and tried to ignore the absurdity of how she must look in her dusty blue skirts and a wedding veil.

“Ah,” Rumpelstiltskin’s voice sounded thin, and his eyes glanced from her knees to her face, his fingers fluttering nervously upon his thighs as if he didn’t know what to do with them. “Do we?”

“Y-Yes…” Belle blinked, self-consciousness setting in when she felt herself blush. She twisted her skirts. “Don’t… don’t we?”

Rumpelstiltskin stared at her with an open mouth before glancing back at his desk. He cleared his throat and said, “I…yes. Yes we do,” he nodded with a newfound vigor. “After all, marriages are contracts, deals in their own rights. Best to see to the details sooner rather than later.”

Smiling, Belle nodded her agreement. “Quite right. So if I’m to be your…” he watched her with wide eyes, and she wondered what he saw. She licked her lips. “Your… um..”

“Wife?” he offered.

“Yes. Your wife,” she whispered, frowning at her own breathlessness. Pull yourself together, she chided . “How are we to.. go about things?”

Rumpelstiltskin blinked at her dumbfoundedly, and she could tell he was at more of a loss than she was. Had he ever been married before? She had never asked him, and he had never mentioned it. In fact, he’d never mentioned women ever. There were the vague myths of how he delighted in the blood of virgins and other follies that Belle could only roll her eyes at, but it had never mentioned anything intimate.

Clearly seeing she would have to elaborate to get an answer out of him, Belle pressed on. “Am I to continue my duties as a housekeeper?”

His eyes widened to an impossible degree, and his mouth dropped open in understanding. “Oh,” he frowned then, looking down in thought. Well, that pleased her at least. It was nice to have someone who was willing to put thought into this situation she had created for them both. If he was willing, perhaps things wouldn’t be impossible to navigate, even in their confusion and discord. Rumpelstiltskin shook his head after a long moment of silence, a look of unhappiness on his face “No, I should think not.”

Belle had, truthfully, expected any answer but that. Her face fell in bewilderment. “What?”

Rumpelstiltskin looked up at her, his face clearing for a moment as he caught her eyes. His fingers tightened to stop their restless fluttering. “My wife will not be subject to polishing silver and sweeping dirt,” he said, so very decidedly that Belle felt her heart thump hard in her chest. “You’ll be higher than your previous station as a lady,” he explained, squinting at her, as if wondering if she heard him.

Curiosity overruled her sense of self-preservation, and she blurted out her thoughts as they came. “I will?”

“Of course,” he startled, surprised at her doubt. He tilted his head to the side, his wiry curls catching the moonlight from the windows and almost appearing silver. “Belle,” he said slowly, quietly, and his voice saying her name made her skin prickle. “Do you… do you know who I am?”

“I…you’re the Dark One,” she answered, though her words sounded lame even to her own ears. How did one describe what he was? He was a sorcerer, a mage. Supposedly he traveled between worlds, crushed armies in his fist, spoke languages of beasts and creatures of myth. He had no royal title, for he had no need of them. Magic was his servant, his pet, and his companion. He had no fear of death. Somewhere lost between kings and gods, Belle couldn’t find any more words than the ones she’d offered, and he nodded, satisfied.

“I’m called on in times of help, distress, anger, and vengeance,” he frowned, stretching his right leg out in front of him. Belle made a mental note to count the laces of his boots at some point. “I own more lands and-by association and debt-peoples that one person could ever keep track of.”

“So you are like a king,” Belle said, wrinkling her nose.

“Not at all,” he huffed, tugging the bottom of his waistcoat uselessly and smoothing it out. “I’m a landlord. Everyone owes, and they all pay when I come to collect,” he said, his nasty teeth clicking with relish. When he saw the distaste on her face, his eyes flickered and he glanced away, frowning. “Kings are usually the ones in debt to me.”

“I see.” She did, thinking this over. It wasn’t a motion of his vanity or pride, revealing these things to her. They were, without a doubt, true, and the certainty of the truth, not the truth itself, calmed her. “So as your wife, what will my role be?”

Rumpelstiltskin glanced at her quickly, startled. “Your role?”

“I’m to be your wife, so I must have an occupation,” Belle said, frowning at him as if he was the one who didn’t understand now. “If marriage is a partnership, what is to be my part?”

Understanding lit his face then, and he smiled, though his eyes did not. “Ah, you want to be… my equal.”

“Yes!” Belle sighed aloud almost laughing, a weary smile flitting across her face.

He stood up quickly. “So you want magic, then?”

“Wha-what? No!” Her voice was pitched almost to a scream, and she covered her mouth when some doves up in the rafters fluttered at the sudden noise, almost more scared than Rumpelstiltskin at her sudden outburst. She leapt up from the couch, only mildly hindered by the veil that tangled about her legs. She reached out and took his hand. “No, I don’t want magic,” Belle said, much softer, and watched as his eyes looked up from their fingers to meet her gaze in relief. She shook her head. “I don’t want power like yours. I want… I want to be able to stand beside you.”

Her words were weak compared to the ardency in her heart. How could she make him understand? Biting her lip, she sighed, “I want you to make space for me,” she said quietly, looking around his tower. “You have so many treasures, so much gold and magic. If I’m to be your wife, a part of you, then I must be able to walk in this space, too, can’t I?”

Rumpelstiltskin let out a breathless giggle that she thought sounded nervous, but he squeezed her hand gently. “If it’s that, you doubt,” he said quietly, his voice octaves deeper as he looked down at their hands. “I’m quite sure I can accommodate.”

A sudden idea flickered through Belle’s mind at the mention of accommodation, and her eyes rounded as she looked up at him, blinking like a doe that had heard her hunter’s boot snap a twig. “Where will I sleep?”

Rumpelstiltskin froze, his eyes looking at her wrist. He gulped so hard that she could hear it, and he glanced up at her weakly. “I… I keep a set of chambers,” he said hoarsely, gesturing futilely at the wall with his free hand. He shook his head, looking toward the stairs. “They are the most comfortable in the castle, though I hardly use them. You are welcome to them, if you wish.”

“You don’t sleep there?” she asked tentatively, ducking to catch his eyes. He evaded her by looking at the wall.

“Not often, no,” he frowned. “If I do sleep, it’s by the fire, in my chair.”

“That can’t be comfortable,” Belle admonished, frowning too, but in disapproval.

Rumpelstiltskin shot her a wounded and annoyed look. “If my sleeping arrangements displease you, mistress, I can find other rooms for myself.”

“I didn’t-” Belle sighed noisily, keeping a hold on his hand when he tried to pull away. “I didn’t mean that. But if you’re offering me the use of your chambers, it only seems fair that you should have access to them, too. Husbands and wives can share, can’t they?”

“They usually don’t,” Rumpelstiltskin said sourly, and Belle wondered again if he spoke from experience.

“Well I’m a wife who does,” Belle said defiantly, tugging on his hand in her decision. Whether he would actually respect her wishes on the matter or not, she had no idea, but she was sure he was doing this out of some kind of protection for her sensibilities. That would be rendered useless, though, with the wedding night, surely? Oh…dear…

“Belle?” Rumpelstiltskin so hardly ever used her name that it made her startle, and his eyes widened as he led her back to sit down. “What’s wrong? What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” she murmured, swallowing thickly. “Someone just… walking over my grave.”

Rumpelstiltskin didn’t look appeased by that, but he nodded just the same. She was relieved that he sat back down with her instead of retreating to his desk. “Is that all you wanted to discuss?”

“…no,” Belle bit her lip. A thousand other things floated to the surface. “What about.. other things?”

“Yes?” Whatever embarrassment or bashfulness the imp had undergone before seemed forgotten in the face of her own uncertainty.

“Like…well,” she took a deep breath. “Like children. Those usually come with marriage, don’t they?”

Rumpelstiltskin stared at her for so long that Belle had begun to feel uncomfortable, and then suddenly he was on his feet and his hands were moving like birds. “Belle,” he said breathlessly, and then a laugh broke from his throat that sunk Belle’s heart in her chest for reasons she didn’t understand. “This marriage-it’s to save you from this spell,” he said softly, his fingers reaching out and almost touching the golden roses in her hair. He pulled back at the last moment. “I don’t expect… we needn’t plan that far.”

“Oh,” Belle felt her chest deflate with the breath she’d been holding, and for some reason that seemed to satisfy the sorcerer. Or perhaps he took it as an out to retreat back to his letter writing. In any case, he was done with her questions for the time being, and crossed back to the room, scratching the back of his head.

How could he make her feel so…special one moment, and so childish the next? Of course, she didn’t know if she wanted children at all, let alone with him-or anyone else! But she knew she didn’t like the matter being so carelessly brushed aside, even laughed off. He must see her ideas, her plans, as girlish, foolish, something of a fairy tale. The hard truth was that this marriage was going to be made of as much convenience as her marriage to Gaston would have been, and for some reason that made tears pearl in her eyes.

Fear of him seeing, Belle gathered the veil up, looping it over her arm quickly, and fled the tower, ignoring his sharp glance of concern as she took the stairs two at a time. If husbands and wives didn’t share things, then Belle decided that her tears, her foolishness would not be shared with him, either.


End file.
